


Article 15

by frankensigh



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 11:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20446397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankensigh/pseuds/frankensigh
Summary: A visiting general performs an inspection and three of the 4077's best are declared "out of uniform."





	Article 15

Francis Mulcahy had never particularly been a numbers man.

He was good at words - writing sermons came easily to him, he could go head to head with the most pretentious literary classics and come out on top, and he always managed to know just what to say when somebody needed some kind advice or an impromptu blessing. In fact, until Charles Emerson Winchester The Third The Great had arrived and crowned himself the sole camp intellectual, Francis had privately (but not quite so much as to call it sinfully) been very proud of his own soft eloquence and extensive vocabulary.

No, Francis Mulcahy had never been much of a numbers man.

But he certainly could count.

And right at that moment, he was very aware of the fact that it was 102 degrees outside, the time was 0930, and his Methodist (he had flipped a coin that morning, and the Lutherans had lost - not that anybody particularly knew or cared) service was currently being served to a congregation of one.

Max Klinger, complete with white gloves and a dainty fan, grinned up at the pulpit with a thumbs-up.

“Maybe we should call it there for today,” Francis hummed, shuffling his notecards and moving toward the door. “Besides, I’m fairly certain you’ve already heard this one.”

“Aw, c’mon, Father, you were doing great!” Max jumped up and blocked the door. “Besides, I don’t mind reruns! Back in Toledo, that’s all our old TV would play! Boy, we used to watch the same four episodes of I Love Lucy over and over and over - ”

“Right, I think I get the picture.”

“Listen, I bet if everybody else knew you had real bread and wine at these shindigs, you’d be turning people away - standing room only! You’d need a ticket to get in!” 

“I appreciate it, truly, but I don’t think Head Office,” he glanced up pointedly, “would be too pleased to see me bribing people to the baptismal font.”

Klinger shrugged and reached around the chaplain to tear off another quick sample of sacramental bread. “Well, Father, it’s their loss. And Theirs.” He looked up, mimicking the gesture Francis had made. “Hey, that bigshot brigadier general’s coming for inspection this afternoon, ain’t he? Maybe he’ll want a bedtime sermon! Bet he hasn’t heard that one about Jacob the Angel Wrestler, and you’re real good at that one!”

“Well, they’re all the Lord’s words, I can’t exactly take credit for the original material.” Francis let out a soft laugh (that was really more of a giggle) at his own joke. “I’ll let you go, then. I’m sure you have plenty to do to get ready.”

“You’ve got no idea,” Max whined. “But wait until you see the dress I’ve picked out for this oh-so-special occasion. Hey!” He grinned, popping another bite of communion bread into his mouth. “With any luck, this might have just been my last Sunday in this place! No offense.”

“None taken, of course,” Francis said, giving a little wave and a big grin as his friend dashed out of the makeshift sanctuary. “I’ll be in my garden if you need anything. But please, please try not to need anything?”

If pressed, even the sweet Father Mulcahy would have had to admit that the visiting Brigadier General Cooper was a bit of a handful. He was tall and built rather menacingly, with sharp brown eyes and precisely regulation dark hair and a jawline out of a GI Joe doll advertisement. The man was so perfectly military that the second he stepped out of his Jeep, half of the formation had glanced over to watch poor Margaret swoon where she stood. 

Immediately after being announced, Cooper began marching through the ranks, giving each soldier a professional once-over before moving to the next in line. 

(Out of the corner of his eye, Francis watched as Klinger, in a rather risque lacy nightie, was dragged away by the ear by Colonel Potter and a very nervous-looking Radar.)

He snapped back to his own situation as the general bellowed out a sharp “Captain, are you aware that you are out of uniform?”

“Me captain, or he captain?” Pierce quipped, gesturing between himself and BJ with a grin that would have been better described as a smirk.

“Me Captain Hunnicutt,” BJ added, looking just as sweet as apple pie. “But I can see where you’d get confused.”

“Was there a fight after hours last night, Captains, or do you have a better explanation for those bruises on your necks?” Cooper pulled back the collar of Hawkeye’s bathrobe to reveal an incriminating trail of small bruises from his ear to his collarbone. Only BJ had the sense of modesty to look sheepish. 

“I’m strictly against fighting,” Hawkeye pressed. “That’s why I joined the army.”

“I’ll bet somebody somewhere finds you hilarious. I’ll see you both in your CO’s office immediately following this inspection to discuss Article 15s and demotions.” Cooper continued down the line and came to a stop in front of Francis, who stared at him with wide eyes. He looked at the chaplain, directed him to lift his chin a bit higher, pulled at his collar, and huffed. “Father, add yourself to that list.”

“Holy hell, Father Mulcahy? You dog, I knew you had it in you!” Hawkeye howled with laughter, nearly leaning on BJ to stay upright. “And on a Sunday too!”

“Wait, I haven’t - ” Francis started, but Cooper cut him off with a sharp dismissal of the company, and everybody dispersed.

Francis, Hawkeye, and BJ sat in Colonel Potter’s office in absolute silence for what felt like hours (but was likely about five minutes) while BJ paced, Francis kept his shoulders drawn up to his ears, and Hawkeye desperately tried to get a glimpse of whatever scandalous markings had gotten the company celibate in trouble. 

Finally, Colonel Potter and General Cooper burst into the room, and BJ sank into a chair a bit too close to Hawkeye’s. 

“As you can imagine, it was no shock to hear that Captain Bathrobe and Captain Jammies were being written up for being out of uniform,” Potter started, leaning against his desk and looking very tired. “The hickeys are a new one, but I’d be a liar if I said it was a big surprise. But when the general told me the third Article 15 was none other than Chaplain Chastity, I damn near keeled over!”

“Listen, Colonel, I’m sure there’s been some mistake - ”

“There’d better be, Mulcahy! And you’d better start telling me a damn good story to replace it!” 

“Well, I - ” The room’s attention turned to Francis all at once, and his face turned an even darker shade of red. “I don’t have one! I was in my tent alone all night, and then I was at church with Corporal Klinger!”

“Son, do you mean to tell me - ” Potter started, and Hawkeye cut him off.

“Wait, wait, wait, it was Klinger?” Hawkeye’s eyes went wide and he leaned forward, but BJ grabbed his arm and held him in place before he could make any crude gestures. “My, my, what a twist!”

“No, no, I didn’t mean - ”

Cooper cleared his throat, and everybody turned to look at him. “None of you have ever had an Article 15, correct?”

“Nobody in this outfit has,” Potter replied. 

“Take this as a warning, then, before I find out anything else you don’t want me to know about.” He pulled on his cap and handed Colonel Potter a note, then gave a salute (which was returned by only the colonel and the chaplain) and left. Potter read over the note, read it again, and broke out in loud laughter.

“What is it? Let me see,” Pierce said, hopping out of his chair to dash around the desk and read over the colonel’s shoulder. 

“I’ll read it to the class, then we can all be in on the joke.” Potter leaned in and read out the note. 

_MASH 4077:_  
_ Cpl. M. Klinger - absent._  
_Cpt. B.F. Pierce - uniform violation (bruises, neck)._  
_Cpt. BJ Hunnicutt - uniform violation (bruises, neck)._  
_1st Lt. F.J.P. Mulcahy - uniform violation (sunburn)._


End file.
